Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARGO

Impossible is not a word in my vocabulary. I refuse to admit failure until every single avenue has been explored and proven wrong. Sure, Daniel doesn't know anything about his father, but I have a hard time believing his grandmother didn't. She had to have known something, even if it's the smallest possible clue. An outfit. A part of town. I'd even take the guy's hair color as a clue at this point.

Daniel is no help. I know if I ask him to tell me where his grandma lives, he won't. Thankfully, I have another in—a workaround.

Olive stands at her locker, taking off her sweater and stuffing it into her backpack.

I lean against the locker next to Olive. "Hello."

"What's up?" she asks. She seems like a fun person. She's bright and cheery, and somehow always seems to smell like vanilla.

"Nothing much. I was wondering if you'd tell me where Daniel's grandmother lives? "

She laughs. "Why do you need to know that? Following him home wasn't enough?"

I figured she'd understand, but maybe she needs more convincing. "I'm trying to help him. He told me he wants me to find his father."

Olive raises an eyebrow. "Really? Those words came out of his mouth?"

I nod.

"Then why don't you ask him where his grandma lives?"

My gaze shifts. "Well... he hasn't been very helpful."

Her smile gets bigger. "Ah, there's the Daniel I know. He's just trying to get rid of you."

Is it that obvious? "So will you help me or not?"

Her eyes narrow as she sizes me up. "Sure. But you owe me."

"Name your price, and it's yours," I say. Surely, she must know my reputation even if she's a freshman.

"Even a ticket to a musical?" she asks.

"Which musical?"

"They're performing The Sound of Music downtown."

A ticket like that is nothing. Last summer I helped Mallory Micheals track down a stolen bracelet, and her mother works at the theater. "Consider it yours."

She gasps. "Really? Just like that?"

"Yup," I say. "Just like that."

Olive covers her mouth. "No way."

"So, where does Daniel's grandma live?" I ask.

She still hasn't recovered. She slowly moves her hand away from her mouth. "She lives at the Cedar Park Assisted Living Center. You know, the one across town by the waterfall. "

"Perfect!" I clap my hands. "I'll get you that ticket by the end of the week," I say, already staggering off.

"You better!" she calls after me.

I give her the A -okay sign and dash away.

I spot Annie and run toward her full steam ahead. "Incoming," I yell as I wrap my arms around her from behind.

She squeals. "Do you have to do this every time?"

"It's just love. Enjoy it." I squeeze her tighter.

"I don't think you're going to give me a choice," she says.

I let her go and fall into step beside her. "Are you going to work today?"

"Yup."

"Can I tag along? I have some things to do in that part of town today."

"Again?" she asks, heading out of the main school doors.

"I'll be quick. I promise, and then we can do something together."

There's a suspicious look in her eyes. "Are you going to tell me what this is about yet?"

I shake my head. "You'll have to be patient."

Her eyebrow raises. "It better be worth it." Then, she stops, and her eyes grow. "You aren't sneaking around with a boy, are you?"

I gasp, linking my arm with hers. "Annie, I'm disappointed in you. You know you'd be the first to know if I liked someone."

"True." Her expression eases. "Just make sure you stay out of trouble. Mama will kill me if something happens to you."

"Don't worry. I promise you'll thank me later."

She continues walking, but it doesn't stop her from side-eyeing me. "This better not be like the time you force-fed me apple pie because you swore I'd like it if I tried it. "

"No sane person dislikes apple pie."

"I don't."

"I never said you were sane."

She pinches me. "Do you want a ride or not?"

"Well, now you have to give me a ride. I'm injured."

She rolls her eyes. "You're a baby."

I hip check her before running off. "Whoever gets there first picks the music!"

"Get back here, you cheater!" She passes me in no time, speeding up to the car.

I slow down as the bones in my legs ache, and then I clutch my side and breathe in deep.

"Nuh-uh. I know what you're doing," she says. "Don't be a sore loser, and get in the car."

I straighten my posture and force a smile to hide the pain. She thinks I'm faking, and I don't want her to know it's real. "You aren't going to fall for this?"

"Nope. You lost fair and square."

"I did." I keep my pace controlled, not moving too fast while I round the car. I open the door and sit in the passenger seat.

"What book are you reading today?" I ask.

She laughs as she turns on the car. "You just don't want me to pick the music."

"We've listened to the same Broken Sage song, on repeat, the entire drive here this morning."

"Because it's brand new, and it's perfect."

"Can't we listen to a different song this time?"

She sighs, turning on another Broken Sage song. "There, happy?"

I nod. It's acceptable. "So, what's the book?"

"I'm branching out. "

"What does that mean?"

She blushes, which I've unfortunately started to notice as a pattern whenever she thinks about a certain someone.

"Jules Verne. You're reading one of his books, aren't you?"

She looks in the back window as she starts to pull out of the parking spot. "Mm-hmm. I figured it would give us something to talk about if I ever see him in the library again."

I rest my head back on the seat and internally groan.

"You don't understand," she says. "I wish there was someone you liked because then you'd get this."

"Get what? Delusion?"

"Having a crush is exciting. You spend the whole day hoping you'll see them, and your stomach turns to butterflies when they look at you. Your heart races. Your breath catches."

"That sounds exhausting." I've had little crushes before, silly ones. Ones that didn't mean anything and only lasted a few days, but I don't want to like anyone now. And I definitely don't want anyone to like me that way. It would be too painful. I'd never let it happen.

"I figured you'd be into boys long before me," she says.

"Hey."

"Think about it. You're outgoing, and everyone likes you." She looks between me and the road.

"So?"

"So those are the kind of girls who get boyfriends first."

I laugh. "Well, you're a closeted romantic."

"This isn't about me."

"Okay. If you say so," I reply, closing my eyes.

"Why are you so tired?" There's a hint of worry in her voice.

I rest my head back on the seat. "I didn't sleep well last night. "

She takes my excuse and moves on, talking about something else, but I drift to sleep before I can comprehend any of it.

My nose tickles, and I open my eyes.

Annie holds the tail of her long braid and taps my face.

I grimace, rubbing my face, and push her away. "What are you doing?"

"Waking you up. I've tried everything else. I blasted my music. I shook you. You were out. I even checked to make sure you were still breathing."

I move as far from her as possible. "I hate being tickled."

She shrugs. "You left me no choice."

I stretch my neck, tilting my head from side to side. Then, I rub my eyes.

We're at the bookstore, which is my cue to walk to the nursing home. It's only a few blocks from here, so it shouldn't take too long.

"I only have a short shift today," Annie says, hopping out of the car. "Be back by six."

I check my phone. I have three hours. "Perfect. I'll be back way before then."

I leave my backpack in the car. I don't feel like dragging it around with me all afternoon. "Have fun reading."

She gives me a look. "I'll be working."

" Sure you will," I say. She always gets everything done quickly and then spends the rest of her shift sitting behind the counter, reading.

"Don't hate it just because you're jealous," she says.

"Have fun," I say with a smile as I walk in the opposite direction .

I pull up the walking directions on my phone. It says it'll take twenty minutes by foot, which is a little more than I was hoping for, but it would've been more awkward if I had her drop me off because I would've had to explain why I'm randomly visiting a nursing home. This is definitely the lesser of two evils. Besides, after my nap, my energy is back up.

I could run a mile at this point.

That's a lie. I couldn't run a mile, but I can walk for twenty minutes.

Today is nice. The sun is shining. Birds are chirping. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a set of a musical where people were waiting to jump into song. That's the vibe.

In the distance I notice a bright green Ferris wheel. I love it when the fair comes to town. It comes every fall and lasts for about two weeks. I used to go all the time as a kid, but we haven't gone in the last few years. Happy memories filled with cotton candy and music fill my mind, making time fly by.

It also doesn't take me a full twenty minutes to get to the nursing home. Apparently, I walk faster than expected. It only took me eighteen minutes. Two whole minutes to spare.

The building isn't very big, but it's clean, and there are lots of beautiful flowers on the outside. The windows are framed with white shutters standing out against the yellow siding, and the front door is painted bright red.

As soon as I walk in, there's a receptionist's desk where a woman sits adjusting her glasses. "Hello, dear."

"Hello," I say.

She smiles, making the laugh lines around her eyes more apparent. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm here to visit someone, but I'm not sure which room they're in."

"What's their name?" she asks .

I have no idea what her name would be. I should've asked Olive. The only name I can go off is Daniel's. "The last name should be Hansen?"

A small laugh escapes her lips. "Are you asking me?"

"No," I say nervously. "That's the name. At least I'm pretty sure it's right."

The receptionist looks at her computer and searches for the name. "There's a Janet Hansen down that hallway, second door on the left."

"Thank you," I say.

She has me sign in, and then I head to her room, passing a group of ladies playing cards in the recreation area.

I knock on the door and crack it open slightly. "Hello? Mrs. Hansen?"

"Come in," she says. Her voice is full and rich. It's a voice that sounds like it belongs to someone who visits the opera and art galleries in their free time. Although, I doubt Daniel's grandma did any of that.

I shuffle in and close the door behind me.

Janet is a beautiful person. Her hair is long and gray, pulled to the side in a wispy braid. She's sitting in a chair facing the window, letting sunbeams glow across her skin.

The room is small, but cute. The walls are mostly bare, with the exception of one big family photo. I don't see Daniel in it. The picture is older. Janet is in the center with a young girl to her left wearing braces and a man standing behind them both. They all have big, bright smiles.

I wave. "Hello, I'm Margo. I know Daniel."

Her face lights up with a grin. "How's he doing?"

Great . Definitely not sleeping through all of his classes and getting into fights. "He's been staying busy. "

"He's such a good kid. Never gets into trouble, and he has straight A's," she says, smiling.

Are we talking about the same person?

Janet quickly changes topic, reaching for a crossword book on her side table. "While you're here, maybe you could help me with something. I can't figure out what this word is." She opens up the book, bending the cover around to the back. That way she can hold it with one hand. "What has holes, but still holds water? For the life of me I can't figure it out."

I walk closer to her and peer over at the other answers she's found to see if there are any letters I can use as clues. There's an S , and it's six letters long.

As someone who prides myself on finding and fixing things, I silently vow to figure out the answer, and I refuse to cheat by looking online. I mull over a bunch of different options in my mind before settling on the most obvious one. "Try sponge."

She grins. "That must be it. You've always been pretty sharp. I wish you'd come visit me more."

I smile, not fully understanding what she means. I've never come by before. She must think I'm someone else. That's the only explanation.

She shows me the book proudly. "It fits perfectly." Then her gaze shifts back to me. "When did you cut your hair?" she asks.

My fingers graze my bob. "It's been this short for a while."

Her brow furrows. "Yesterday I could've sworn it was long—"

"What are you doing?" Daniel stands in the doorway.

"I'm just visiting with your grandma. Last I checked, that's not a crime," I say.

His gaze is so strong it makes my skin crawl. I get that he didn't want me to hang around him all the time, but I've never seen him look this upset. His face is turning redder by the second. Even the veins in his neck are popping. Someone should probably tell him it isn't the most attractive look.

"I told you not to come around here anymore," his grandma says, crossing her arms.

His eyes stay on me, ignoring her. "You might as well just leave. She doesn't know anything."

"Justin! How dare you come into my home and talk like that."

"Get out," Daniel says.

I hear him, but my mind is still computing one word: Justin. Who is Justin?

"Do I need to drag you out of here?" Daniel yells.

His grandma makes an attempt to get up. "Don't talk to my daughter like that!"

Daniel paces the room, tugging at his hair. "I'm not Justin!" Then he points at me. "And she isn't Ashley!"

A light bulb goes off in my head. It's so painfully obvious what's happening, but I need him to stop talking. I can't have him reminding his grandma who he really is. I need her to believe we're Ashley and Justin. I jump up and run over to Daniel. I cover his mouth with my hand and start pushing him backwards.

"What are you doing?" he mumbles through my hand.

"Trust me," I whisper. I turn to look over my shoulder at his grandma. "We'll just be a second."

I push him completely out of the room and close the door. I need to talk to him without her hearing my plan. I know how to find his father. This breakthrough is better than I could've ever imagined. I just need Daniel to play along.

Daniel groans. "You are completely insufferable. "

I don't care what he thinks about me. It's not important.

"Justin," I say. "She called you Justin ."

He rolls his eyes and proceeds to argue about how he thinks this vital piece of information is irrelevant.

"Do you know what this means?" I ask.

There's no spark in his eyes. He's void of joy—tired. "Enlighten me."

"She called me Ashley. If that's your mom's name, that means maybe Justin is your father. It's a clue."

"It could be anyone," he says.

"But it could be him . Your dad."

He shakes his head. "No. She told me she never knew him."

"Maybe she lied."

"No!" he yells, startling himself. "She wouldn't lie about something like that."

"So you're telling me she's never lied to you?"

He doesn't reply.

"Fine. Maybe you're right," I say, "but there's an easy way to check."

The slightest grain of curiosity taints his frustration. "What do you mean?"

"She thinks I'm Ashley. Let me go back in there and pretend to be your mom," I say.

His mouth twitches while he thinks. His eyes darken, attempting once again to overshadow any hope he had. "You're going to be wrong."

I'm not wrong. I can feel it. "There's only one way to find out."

"Fine."

I blink, unprepared for him to cave so easily. I figured I'd need to state my case with an entire presentation before he'd change his mind. "Really?"

"I just want to get this over with so you'll leave. I'll give you two minutes, but once we confirm you're wrong, I want you out of here. No negotiations."

I can work with that. A lot can happen in two minutes, and I won't waste a second. "Okay, you stay here."

"What? Why?"

I reach for the doorknob. "I told you I have a plan. Don't worry, I'll leave the door cracked open so you can hear what we say." I hold my finger to my lips and head back in, careful not to close the door all the way.

He follows me with a hardened stare, but he doesn't change his mind. He lets me go back into the room alone.

"Sorry about that. I told Justin to leave," I say, hoping she'll take the bait. I won't lie, it feels a little bit wrong to be purposefully tricking a sweet old woman into telling me her secrets, but I'm desperate.

I hold my breath, watching her every move.

She grimaces. "Justin? Why is he here? I thought you broke up."

No, no way that worked. It's like I broke into a bank vault.

I come closer, sitting across from her on the corner of her bed. "I think he misses you."

She adjusts the blanket that's draped across her shoulders. "I doubt that. He doesn't like me very much."

"Oh, sure he does," I say.

She raises an eyebrow. "Not after that time I yelled at him. He's scared of me, and he should be."

I hold up my fingers and pinch them together. "Okay, he might be a little scared. "

She crosses her arms. "We agreed you wouldn't tell him. Don't tell me you're going to break your promise."

"Tell him what?"

Her jaw lowers as if I've forgotten something life changing. Something so drastic no person in their right mind would forget. She looks at the door and then back at me. She leans in and whispers, "About the baby." Her eyes land on my stomach.

I cover it with my arms. Baby?

If she thinks I'm Ashley then the baby must be... Daniel.

I just need to push a little more. I need to be one hundred percent sure I'm not reading into this. I need to hear the confirmation from her lips.

"Why shouldn't I tell him? It's his baby," I whisper back. My skin is on pins and needles. Goosebumps ripple up my arms in anticipation. This is it. This is the moment that'll make or break my case.

"I don't care if he's the father. He's no good for you. You've been clean ever since you came home. Think of the baby. He deserves better than a deadbeat father."

There's a knock at the door. At first I expect to see Daniel walk in, but a caregiver walks in instead. "Hello, Janet, it's time to get ready for dinner."

I have so many questions swimming around in my head. I want to know more. I want to know more about what happened, but I know this isn't the time. If anything, it'll rile her up and ruin her day. I don't want to do that. It wouldn't be fair to her.

"Have you met my daughter?" Janet says, proudly smiling at me.

The caregiver grins at me even though she knows I'm not this woman's daughter. "I don't believe I have. "

"Hi," I say.

"This is Ashley."

"It's nice to meet you," the caregiver says.

I nod, standing. "I'll come by another time."

My heart is bursting. I'm elated with this clue. I have a name. It might only be a first name, but that's something I can work with.